I like the word. So much so, I go to my book of etymology to find the derivation of the word. If, indeed, "to snivel" was a bastardization of some small furry animal with yellow teeth located off the coast of Madagascar, I'd be delighted. But it isn't. My task at hand is to put a few thoughts out in cyberspace in between running to the bathroom every few moments without sniveling. It's a large task. My stomach rumbles loudly.
Record high temperatures last Friday and heavy rains have goosed Mother Nature. In her reaction to being grabbed in the ass,(oof) she makes the grass shoot up two inches in three days. The trees, holding back because of a prolonged drought, are leafing out. The leaves turn from puce green to bright green. I manage to plant three varieties of beets, two of radishes, spinach, collards and Buttercrunch lettuce. My stomach has double crossed me. I refuse to slow down.
Last night, I shiver and tremble in trips to the upstairs bathroom. Finally, I admit defeat and go to my recliner on the first floor. Dawn's studio is an addition to the main school house. There is only a crawl space underneath. For days I search for the source of an odor. First, I blame the cat and his cat box. Next I move a bookcase loaded with crafts supplies thinking some wiley varmint got away from the Pooch. Two plug-ins mask the rotting smell. I gag as I lean back in my leather recliner. Then , I rationalize that I'll get used to it. The Pooch leaves his favorite chair in the studio and crawls in next to me on the couch. I'd be happy for his attention, but he hogs the couch. I have to shorten my six foot one inch frame to give him room. I could be mean and toss him off the couch, but imagine what the odor of dead varmint smells like to him.
I toss and turn. I get little sleep. I declare today a no work day, not that I could really do anything worthwhile. I eat only my favorite things. I watch my favorite movies starting with Mr.Deeds and sliding into A Good Year. They are mindless feel-good movies. I make a note to keep a closer watch on Dawn's movie choices after last nights Richard Gere thriller of sexual predation, dismemberment, beatings and violence.
Mid morning the Pooch comes in early from patrol. I cover myself with a heavy blanket while he snoozes on the couch. The land line rings, waking us both from a sound sleep. Some automated voice message tells me not worry, but I may want to examine my credit standing. Brace yourself for sniveling here. I'm going to take the two phones that are connected to the land line and get some fireworks from the Cheapo Depot in Readstown . A few M-80's will do them nicely.
I hit the stop button and delete the message mid-call. If a real person calls telling me that my new car warranty has expired( I last bought a new car in 1996) or that I can get satellite TV for free, I will let loose a verbal barrage equaling my stomach's propensity for projectile extension. Sorry. I need to go back to my movie.
Better things tomorrow.
Twitler: Pride Cometh Before McFaul
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